September 19 2002
It was a crisp September evening in Colorado Springs, and the atmosphere inside the Broadmoor World Arena was electric. SmackDown was in full swing, with fans on their feet, eagerly anticipating the next explosive segment. But backstage, far from the roar of the WWE Universe, Kurt Angle had only one thing on his mind: revenge.
Still fuming from last week's humiliating burrito incident, Kurt stormed through the narrow hallways with a laser focus, his blue singlet barely containing the tension in his muscles. His brow furrowed, and his jaw clenched tightly as he stomped forward, his steps echoing off the walls. He had one goal—to find Zlatan Ibrahimović, the mastermind behind his public embarrassment, and make him pay.
Stopping at a crew member who was busy adjusting equipment, Kurt snapped, "Where's Zlatan's locker room?"
The crew member, startled by Kurt's intensity, quickly pointed down the hall. "Down the hall, to the right."
Without a second thought, Kurt charged ahead, his determined stride fueled by a mix of frustration and fury. The hallway felt narrower as he closed in on the door he believed was Zlatan's. His heartbeat quickened as he approached, imagining the look on Zlatan's face when he finally confronted him. With a swift motion, Kurt slammed the locker room door open with a resounding bang, his voice booming before he could even take stock of the room.
"Zlatan, you're going to regret meddling in my business!" Kurt roared, ready for a fight.
But the sight that met him was far from what he expected.
Instead of the towering, cocky Zlatan Ibrahimović, Kurt found himself staring at a group of WWE Divas—Torrie Wilson, Nidia, Dawn Marie, and a few others. They were in various states of conversation and preparation for their own segments, but now, their eyes were all fixed on Kurt with a mixture of shock and disbelief.
Torrie Wilson, her mouth slightly open in surprise, was the first to break the stunned silence. "Kurt Angle? What are you doing in here?"
The fire in Kurt's belly quickly evaporated into sheer embarrassment. His face flushed as he struggled to find words to explain himself. "Uh… I… I thought this was Zlatan's locker room. I'm… I'm sorry."
The Divas, however, were less than amused by the intrusion. Realizing they had the upper hand in the situation, their shock quickly turned into playful annoyance. Their eyes narrowed as they exchanged knowing glances.
Before Kurt could react, they began to move as one, surrounding him in a semi-circle. His Olympic instincts kicked in too late as he saw what they were grabbing—spoons, of all things, which had been left over from catering. Kurt's initial confusion turned into wide-eyed panic as they advanced on him with mischievous grins.
"What are you—?" Kurt began, but the Divas were already in motion.
In unison, they playfully but firmly swatted at Kurt, aiming for his arms, shoulders, and anywhere else they could reach. The spoons clinked as they bounced off his body, and despite the absurdity of the situation, Kurt could feel his dignity rapidly disintegrating.
"Hey! Hey! Come on, now!" Kurt yelped, trying to shield himself from the surprisingly accurate attacks. But it was too late. The Divas were relentless, and Kurt, the Olympic Gold Medalist, found himself backing up toward the door, swatting at the air and looking like anything but the fierce competitor he usually was.
"Out, Kurt!" Nidia laughed, swiping at him one last time as he scrambled to the exit.
With one final bashful glance at the grinning Divas, Kurt darted out of the locker room and into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind him. He stood there for a second, his face flushed with both embarrassment and frustration, catching his breath and trying to make sense of what had just happened.
That's when he saw him.
Leaning casually against the wall just a few feet away, arms crossed and a wide grin plastered across his face, was Zlatan Ibrahimović. The Swedish superstar's eyes glinted with amusement as he took in the sight of a thoroughly humiliated Kurt Angle.
"Having fun in there, Kurt?" Zlatan asked, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.
Kurt's eyes narrowed as the realization dawned on him. He glanced back at the door, then at Zlatan, who seemed entirely too pleased with himself. "You… you switched the signs, didn't you?"
Zlatan's grin only widened. "Let's just say I made sure you found exactly what you deserved."
Kurt, still seething, took a step toward Zlatan, but another wave of discomfort from last week's burrito prank stopped him in his tracks. He winced slightly, and Zlatan's chuckle only deepened as he pushed off from the wall and began to stroll away, clearly enjoying his victory.
"Better luck next time, Kurt," Zlatan called over his shoulder. "Maybe try knocking next time."
Kurt stood there, rooted in place, fists clenched, his frustration boiling over as Zlatan disappeared around the corner. There was no immediate comeback, no witty retort that could salvage his dignity after what had just transpired. The prank had worked to perfection, and for now, Zlatan had outsmarted him once again.
As Kurt turned to leave, still red-faced from the encounter, the SmackDown crew and talent, who had witnessed the spectacle from a distance, exchanged amused glances. Word of the incident spread quickly, and by the time Kurt made his way back through the hallways, he could already hear the muffled laughter of his peers.
Back at ringside, Michael Cole's voice cut through the commentary. "Well, Tazz, it seems like Zlatan Ibrahimović has pulled off another one of his pranks, and this time, Kurt Angle ended up barging into the wrong locker room."
Tazz chuckled, shaking his head. "That's right, Cole. Zlatan's mind games are in full swing tonight, and Kurt's gonna need a new plan if he wants to turn the tables on this guy. He might have Olympic gold, but he's gonna need more than that to get back at Zlatan."
Michael Cole nodded, his tone lighter. "It's a reminder that in the world of WWE, anything can happen. You never know what tricks someone like Zlatan has up his sleeve."
As the camera cut back to the action in the ring, the WWE Universe buzzed with excitement, knowing that the saga between Kurt Angle and Zlatan was far from over. If anything, this latest prank had only added fuel to a fire that was about to burn even brighter.
XXXX
The night was buzzing with energy as SmackDown continued its broadcast from Colorado Springs, the crowd still riding the high from the earlier antics involving Kurt Angle and the WWE Divas. But now, the mood was shifting. As the lights dimmed slightly and Kurt Angle's music hit, the audience's focus snapped to the entrance ramp. Kurt emerged from the backstage area, his face set in a mask of frustration and determination. His usual calm, collected demeanor was gone, replaced with a fire that hadn't been seen in weeks.
Kurt stormed down the ramp with purpose, his jaw clenched, every step heavy with intent. The crowd watched with a mix of anticipation and amusement, knowing full well what had happened to him earlier. But now, Kurt was on a mission, and the WWE Universe was eager to see how he planned to settle the score.
Michael Cole's voice cut through the ambient noise of the arena. "Ladies and gentlemen, Kurt Angle is making his way to the ring, and he does not look pleased at all."
Tazz, barely able to contain his grin, added, "You hit the nail on the head, Cole. Kurt's got a chip on his shoulder after what went down earlier. Can you blame him?"
Kurt wasted no time sliding into the ring. He snatched a microphone from ringside and stood tall, though his body language was taut with frustration. The crowd simmered as they waited for him to speak. When Kurt raised the microphone to his lips, his voice was sharp, dripping with a fiery resolve.
"Zlatan Ibrahimović!" Kurt barked, his voice echoing through the arena. "You think you can pull your little pranks and get away with it? You think you can embarrass me and turn me into a joke? Well, guess what? I'm not laughing, and I'm not letting this slide!"
The crowd's response was a mix of laughter and cheers, their amusement evident despite Kurt's anger. The sight of the Olympic Gold Medalist fuming over Zlatan's antics had entertained them, but now, they sensed something more serious brewing.
Michael Cole chimed in again. "Kurt Angle seems dead-set on settling the score with Zlatan."
Tazz leaned forward, his grin widening. "You know, Cole, this is some entertaining stuff. Kurt's got that Olympic fire burning tonight!"
Kurt paced around the ring, his fury fueling each step. "Zlatan, I've had enough of your shenanigans. I'm tired of being the punchline of your jokes," he said, his voice sharp. "So here's what I'm proposing:Unforgiven, in Los Angeles, just three days from now. You and me, one-on-one, in that ring!"
The arena exploded with cheers. The fans loved the idea of a showdown between Kurt Angle and Zlatan Ibrahimović, and the challenge only heightened the excitement. But amidst the cheers, a chant broke out, spreading through the crowd like wildfire.
"Spoon! Spoon! Spoon!" the audience chanted, clearly referencing Kurt's earlier misadventure in the Divas' locker room.
Michael Cole couldn't help but laugh. "These fans in Colorado Springs are having some fun with Kurt Angle tonight!"
Tazz was grinning ear to ear. "This crowd's relentless, Cole. They're not letting Kurt forget that spoon incident anytime soon!"
Kurt, his face turning slightly red with frustration at the crowd's teasing, barely had time to respond when the arena lights suddenly dimmed. The tension in the air grew thick as the entrance music for Zlatan Ibrahimović hit, the beat heavy and confident, just like the man himself.
Zlatan strutted onto the stage with his trademark swagger, a confident grin plastered across his face. The WWE Universe erupted in cheers and boos alike, but Zlatan didn't care—he was the center of attention, just how he liked it. He raised one hand to quiet the crowd, basking in the moment as he surveyed Kurt standing in the ring.
Zlatan raised the microphone to his lips, his grin widening. "Kurt, you want a match atUnforgiven? You got it!"
The crowd roared, loving the prospect of seeing these two finally clash. But as Zlatan continued, his grin shifted into something more mischievous. He raised his other hand, signaling to someone high above the arena. Kurt, sensing something was off, narrowed his eyes, his focus entirely on Zlatan.
And then, it happened.
Without warning, a deluge of green slime poured down from above, drenching Kurt Angle in an unexpected and grotesque shower. The Olympic hero stood frozen for a moment, sputtering as the thick green liquid coated his entire body, dripping from his head to his boots.
Michael Cole's voice was incredulous. "What in the world is that, Tazz?"
Tazz was laughing so hard he could barely respond. "Looks like Kurt's getting himself a shower, Cole. And it's green!"
The crowd exploded into laughter, unable to resist the hilarity of the situation. Kurt Angle, one of the most serious and decorated athletes in WWE, was standing in the middle of the ring, covered head to toe in green slime, his earlier anger forgotten in the face of his current humiliation.
Zlatan stood on the stage, arms raised triumphantly, clearly pleased with himself as he basked in the crowd's reaction. His grin only grew wider as he watched Kurt try, and fail, to maintain his composure.
Michael Cole was shaking his head, trying not to laugh himself. "Zlatan's getting the last laugh, Tazz! Kurt Angle's covered in that green goo!"
Tazz, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, could barely get his words out. "Ah, karma's a funny thing, Cole! Looks like Zlatan's playing mind games with Kurt once again."
In the ring, Kurt sputtered and swiped at the slime covering his face, his entire body tense with frustration. The green liquid dripped onto the mat, creating a slippery mess as Kurt tried to shake it off. But there was no recovering from this—Zlatan had once again outsmarted him, and the crowd was loving every second of it.
Zlatan, standing tall on the stage, raised his arms one last time, soaking in the cheers and jeers from the crowd. He had accepted Kurt's challenge forUnforgiven, but not without adding another layer of humiliation to their feud. As he exited the stage, the crowd was left thoroughly entertained by the spectacle, and Kurt was left standing in the ring, fuming and drenched.
Michael Cole, still chuckling, wrapped up the moment. "Well, Zlatan might have accepted Kurt's challenge, but he's certainly not letting Kurt forget about that Divas' locker room incident!"
Tazz nodded, still grinning. "You got that right, Cole. This is shaping up to be one of the most entertaining rivalries we've seen in a long time. And if this is what we're seeing on SmackDown, I can't imagine what's going to happen atUnforgiven!"
As the show continued, the WWE Universe buzzed with anticipation for what was sure to be an unforgettable match. But tonight, as Kurt Angle stood dripping in green slime, one thing was clear: Zlatan Ibrahimović wasn't just winning in the ring—he was winning the war of pranks.
The road toUnforgiven had taken a hilarious turn, and the WWE Universe couldn't wait to see what happened next.